The Politics of Flying
by pancakesareking
Summary: [Yaoi]Marik is out to convince Ryou there is nothing scary about riding on a motorcycle. Ryou, however, proves to be very stubborn. Marik can be stubborn too, though.


**Title:** The Politics of Flying

**Pairing:** Marik/Ryou 

**Summary:** Marik is out to convince Ryou there is nothing scary about riding on a motorcycle. Ryou, however, proves to be very stubborn. Marik can be stubborn too, though.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Yu-gi-oh. No, seriously, I don't.

**Author's Notes:** Okay, this is just a story I came up with when I was riding a motorcycle with this guy. I had been so scared at first, but it was so fun. I sort of want to be a biker chick, now. OH, and this is sort of AU, I guess. I don't know. Malik is the dark one, Marik is the light one. Uh, good and bad stuff. I'm just having way too hard a time explaining myself.

-**The Politics of Flying**-

Sun filtered through the freshly dusted blinds of the Bakura household, highlighting the dozing figure sprawled on the couch. Snowy white hair draped neatly over the dark cushions, further enhancing the pale glow of Ryou Bakura's skin.

Two long, thin hands pillowed his head. Lips parted to let out a breath, before closing again; it was a wonder the boy didn't snore. And oddly enough, his school uniform was barely wrinkled at all, despite his comfortably spread out position. 

The British boy looked so peaceful, Marik almost felt guilty about waking him. Marik didn't do the guilt thing, though.

Naturally, he had no problem pouncing on the boy and screaming, "FIRE!"

Large brown eyes snapped open, coming into close range with Marik's own violet eyes as the boy sprung up. For a minute, Marik thought Ryou might have a heart attack, until one of the pale hands he'd been previously studying slammed into the back of his head before shoving him onto the newly vacuumed floor.

Ryou, Marik thought, was a dust Nazi. Aloud, he shared that particular though with his friend.

"Oh, but when I so much as drop a crumb in your kitchen, you have an epileptic fit."

"Those are my angry dances," Marik defended childishly.

"They look like epileptic fits to me."

Marik stuck his tongue out at his friend, and flipped him off with a gold-covered finger. "You just don't know how to dance."

Ryou looked taken aback. "I do so!"

"Look, you can't dance," Marik stated firmly. "But I don't care. I came here for another reason."

"Well, what is it? If it's to see Bakura, he's asleep."

Unable to control himself, Marik grinned goofily at his soft-spoken best friend. "Nope. That stupid thief can sleep all he wants. I came here to, among other things, wake you up. My dark had mentioned similar purposes concerning his later visit with Bakura. But that's beyond the point. The point is I had to wake you up."

"And you had to scream, 'Fire?' Forgive me for feeling dubious."

"I tried calling your name," the Egyptian lied, "and poking you, too. You just wouldn't wake up."

Without much else to do, Ryou scoffed. "You used that excuse last time, when I fell asleep in the swivel chair, and you spun me around screaming, 'Tornado!'"

"You were snoring loud enough to wake up everyone in Domino."

Pale cheeks turned a vivid red right before Marik's eyes. "I do not snore!"

"You're getting very defensive," Marik said solemnly. "And the snoring isn't as bad as when you talk in your sleep." It was increasingly hard not to laugh as Ryou's chocolaty brown eyes widened in horror.

"I do not!"

"What was it you said last time?" Marik lifted a jewel covered finger to tap his chin thoughtfully. "Oh yeah. 'Oh, Marik, I want you to bend me over your motorcycle and…"

Ryou jumped off the couch and stood over Marik, glaring down at him. "Okay, now I know you're messing with me," he muttered in a soft British lilt. "I've never dreamed about your motorcycle."

Marik smirked.

"I've also never dreamed of you bending me over anything!" As Marik began laughing, Ryou delivered a soft kick to his foot. "Pervert!"

For a minute, Marik puzzled over how Ryou could get so internally dishevled, and stay perfectly neat on the outside. How Ryou stayed so pretty when he was having emotional seizures on the inside, Marik would never understand. As he thought, he didn't even realize he was smiling fondly up at his best friend.

A frown spread across Ryou's still blushing face, and he poked his face nervously. "What? Is there something on my face? Oh, goodness! Do I have one of those red marks from where I was sleeping?"

"Huh?" The blond shook his head. "Oh, no, I was just admiring the view." 'Thinking how pretty you are,' Marik answered in his head.

"You never quit," Ryou teased, returning the soft smile. "So what are you doing here? I was having a very nice dream about cleaning."

Marik stood, poking Ryou's oxford button-down-clad chest. "You promised you would ride the motorcycle with me today!"

Flustered by their close proximity, Ryou stepped back. "I promised no such thing!"

"You did so!" At the questionable look sent his way, Marik huffed in irritation. "I'm not lying this time!"

"…"

"Okay, just a little. Bakura promised for you. It's the same thing, though."

"Hardly."

"Bakura only promised because we both know how scared you are of motorcycles."

It was cute, the way Ryou's chest expanded in defense, and his pale cheeks puffed out slightly. "I am not afraid!"

"Look, it's okay that you're afraid. We'd expected it anyway."

"What does that mean?" Ryou frowned. Some best friend Marik was! And why did Marik keep smiling that way? The other boy had never seen his friend smile at anything that way. It was sort of disconcerting. Nevertheless! "Look, you expect me to ride that… that **_thing_ **with you, because you're in… in… **_cahoots_** with my dark half?"

A golden eyebrow rose at that. "Cahoots? By Ra, you are so British." 

"The accent never tipped you off?"

"I didn't come here to talk about your British…ness."

"You came to try to lure me onto that death trap!"

Violet eyes narrowed. "She's not a death trap!"

"She?" Honestly, the scoff just slipped right out of Ryou. The boy had no control over it whatsoever. "Does _she_ have a name?"

"… You're mocking me."

"Not at all."

Marik really hated how he couldn't stay mad at Ryou. 'Damn him for being so alluring!' Still, no matter how angry he was or wasn't, it wouldn't stop him from getting rough. He was Marik Ishtar, for Ra's sake!

Obviously, Ryou never saw it coming. A bronze hand closed around his wrist, tight enough to cut off his circulation. His protest got as far as a deep breath, before Marik yanked him out the door. Ryou had never realized how short a walk it was to the road when he didn't go down the stone path to the driveway. After all, he worked hard to keep the grass tidy. One step, two steps, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and there it was.

A newly washed death trap, sparkling in the sun. Oh, Ryou knew not to underestimate something just because of looks. After all, Marik was one of the prettiest boys—well, persons, really—he had ever seen, and he's seen the other boy beat the, well, shit out of people.

So the moral was not to be fooled by pretty exteriors.

Apparently, Marik didn't give a flying fuck about morals, as he shoved Ryou onto the back of his bike, and climbed on. One more, Ryou was stopped mid-protest as Marik wrapped Ryou's arms around his waist. Ryou was too stunned to move; after all, he and Marik had touched before, but never _hugged_, or any other sort of movement that would constitute the wrapping of ones arms around another's waist.

"Okay, you don't let go, silly British boy. I'm going to put on your helmet tight enough for it not to fall off. We'll go slow, at first, though." He turned around, devilish violet eyes meeting terrified brown.

"See, I even added this nice seat for you, so you can lean back." Marik gestured to the seat, which Ryou noticed, and leaned back, a little less afraid, but arms still clamped tightly around his friends waist. And goodness, he thought, they hadn't even left yet! In an amused voice (far too amused for Ryou's liking), Marik added, "It's called a sissy bar."

"I could be sleeping, right now, or playing a nice, safe game of cards with Yugi."

Marik jerked the helmet straps a little harder than necessary. "But you'd rather be with me, right?"

Already equipped with a smartass answer, Ryou stopped to think about it. Yes, he actually would prefer Marik's company. Marik, who wasn't afraid to be honest, or play jokes, or stab people for making fun of Ryou's soft voice and pale complexion. Ryou, at the cost of losing sleep, and getting picked on, or watching someone get stabbed, would pick Marik any day. And it sort of felt nice to realize that.

It didn't mean he wanted to ride a motorcycle, though.

Still, Ryou met eyes with Marik, and answered with a simple, "Yes."

The blond paused momentarily, his hand propping up Ryou's chin. 'Are we having a moment?' Embarrassed, he loosened the straps a little, and turned around, fastening on his own.

"Okay, hold on."

So Ryou did.

It was louder than he'd expected, and he flinched as they started up, but the sound faded to a loud purr as the bike launched down the road. Afraid for his life, Ryou pushed his cheek against Marik's back, barely noticing how both of their bodies were vibrating.

"Lean with me," Marik shouted as they came up to a corner.

"Um, okay!" Ryou shouted back, relieved they could talk.

"Not so bad, huh?"

"Depends on your definition of bad," Ryou cried, his eyes still clamped shut.

And, as much as he hated to admit it, it wasn't actually so scary. For a minute, Ryou even felt brave enough to open his eyes. Amazing was the first word to come to mind, until oncoming traffic sped by, and the surge of bravery died out.

"Why don't you open your eyes?"

Ryou squeezed Marik's stomach, and felt him clench his muscles in return. Oh, he'd forgotten Marik could be ticklish. "I'd really rather not!"

Marik felt the heat on his back through the think lavender material of his belly shirt, and smiled. Still, he didn't know why Ryou would be blushing. He figured Ryou just wasn't used to holding people in any way.

Unfortunately, his happiness was short lived as they came upon a red light. It wasn't even the fact that they had to stop, either; it was the group of people rounding the corner.

Yugi Motou, his hair looking as if it he'd stuck his finger in a socket; Honda something-or-other, looking like a unicorn, to Marik; "Joey," grinning stupidly as he went through a deck of cards in his hands; that _girl_, Anzu, talking rapidly to the whole group; and of course, the pharaoh, walking slowly beside Yugi, smiling down at his younger counterpart serenely.

Marik slammed on the brakes, blushing when he felt Ryou's body slam flush against his own.

He seriously would have taken advantage of the situation, had the pharaoh and his cronies not been there.

'Ra,' Marik thought, 'Can't I go anywhere in Domino without running into the happy-squad?'

It seemed Yami was thinking along the same lines as he spotted Marik, his own scarlet eyes going wide when he realized who was on the back of the bike. And when Yami, stopped, everyone stopped.

And, for a minute, Ryou was happy just catching his breath, and nuzzling his face into Marik's back, ignorant of the fact of the group watching him.

Until, of course, Joey had to go and cry, "Ryou?"

'Turn green,' Marik ordered the light mentally. Nothing happened.

Anzu, feeling a particular need to be captain obvious cried out, "Ryou is riding a motorcycle! With Marik!"

Ryou stared at his friends wide-eyed, not really comprehending the situation. It was a reflex when his shocked face melted into a sweet smile, and he said, "Hello, everyone. Lovely weather, isn't it?"

Four pairs of eyes stared back blankly.

Honda, the only one unfazed, replied, "Actually, I think it's going to rain soon."

Yugi nodded silently, his large eyes roaming back and forth between the two boys on the bike. Didn't Ryou know those things were deathtraps?

"Well, it's been fun," Marik said with false cheer, noticing the opposite lane of traffic slowing down. "But we've really got to get going, since it might rain, and all."  Not waiting for a response, Marik did a u-turn as soon as the light changed colors.

"I don't want to die," Ryou cried out, clenching his eyes shut once more. For some reason, he was sort of glad the others had seen him with Marik.

"Well," Marik yelled over his shoulder, "I don't want you to die either!"

And Ryou didn't know it, but Marik could feel the other boy's smile against his back.

"Lean again!"

"Okay!"

Marik loved the feeling he got from riding on his bike. It was like he was flying, and he was totally in control. The feeling was intensified having Ryou holding him the way he was, though. It felt so good, knowing he wasn't going to pass Ryou's house, watching it go by as a sort of blur, and Ryou being another blue somewhere inside.

This time, Ryou was flying with him. And Marik didn't mind admitting flying was so much better with someone else there.

Six and a half blocks later, they were back on Ryou's street. Marik was disappointed as he lulled to a stop, wishing he could feel Ryou's body pressed against his just once more. At least long enough to make some sort of joke, and feel Ryou blush against his back.

Oh well.

He pulled off his helmet, and turned around to help Ryou, only to see his albino passenger had already removed his helmet. Funny, because Marik hadn't felt Ryou's hands move from around his body.

The giddy grin looked out of place on Ryou's face. Regardless, the boy smiled broadly, not waiting for Marik to get the first word. "That was amazing! I felt like I was—well, like _we_ were flying!"

"Have you ever flown?"

"Well, in a plane."

"Me too. I like to imagine what flying feels like, though."

"Like you could fall at any minute." Ryou smiled, happy with his logic.

Marik returned the smile and nudged the kickstand with his foot. "Get down on this side; otherwise you'll burn your leg on the pipe right there."

Ryou, still grinning, replied, "Oh. Wow."

"So, you enjoyed it?"

Abruptly, Ryou stopped smiling. He shrugged casually; inwardly embarrassed he had been so excited. Marik probably thought he was a loser! "I guess."

"Oh." Marik smirked. "So I guess you don't want to ride again?"

"Of course I do!" White cheeks tinged pink once more, and Ryou subdued himself.

"Come on, it's cool. I'm thirsty. Invite me in for a drink?" The Egyptian ran his bejeweled fingers through his hair, grinning at his friend as suavely as possible.

Ryou couldn't have stopped himself even if he had wanted to. He leaned forward, draped his helmet on his seat, and kissed Marik. It was chaste, and he pulled back quickly, pink face gone completely scarlet. 

Needless to say, it surprised him when Marik held his face and offered a kiss of his own, a bit less chaste than Ryou's. Ryou smiled, thinking on how Marik didn't kiss the way Ryou had imagined him to. Softly, with the slightest bit of pressure, and pulling away with a nearly inaudible smacking sound. And to think he had imagined Marik kissing roughly! Then again, he'd also thought he'd hate riding on a motorcycle.

"So how was it?" Marik asked, his bronze cheeks a little darker than normal.

"The motorcycle ride or the kiss?"

Marik 'hm'ed, and pulled Ryou closer. "Both, I guess."

"Smashing," Ryou murmured. He looked up at Marik, smiling sweetly.

Marik laughed and began dropping kisses on Ryou's lips, pausing in between to mutter, "You're so British."

Still smiling, Ryou shoved Marik back and began the short walk up to his front door. When he reached the door, and turned back and asked, "Would you like to come in for a drink?"

When Ryou went inside, he leaned again the doorway, his hands behind his back. He was surprised to see Bakura on the couch watching television, and chugging a beer. "Breakfast of the champions," Bakura liked to say. Bakura watching TV and drinking were hardly surprising, though. It was just the fact that Ryou's egotistical darker half was lounging in boxers, and equally undressed Malik Ishtar in his lap, drinking a beer of his own.

Bakura's sharp eyes caught Ryou's, and he turned. "Is it raining? It sounded like it, but I can't tell since you close the damn blinds all of the time."

Ryou blinked at the casualness of it all. "Um, yes, it is. And Marik will be spending the night, I think." Trying as hard as he could to be just as casual as Bakura, he walked stiffly into the house, a wet Egyptian attached to his arm, glaring.

"Was it totally necessary to keep me in the rain?"

"Yes."

Though Malik seemed disinterested, Bakura's eyes stared at the boy's joined hands. Giving Ryou a few minutes to realize Bakura wasn't going to pick on him, he made his move.

"Marik, I promised he would ride the motorcycle. I never said anything about him riding you."

Malik laughed quietly, and, tearing his eyes off the TV screen, asked, "So, how was it, anyway? Did you piss your pants, Ryou?" He took the opportunity to gaze at Ryou's crotch lazily.

Ryou blushed and replied, "Oh well, it was fun. Sort of like flying."

"Yeah, it usually is," Bakura said at the same time Malik said, "Just wait until you ride Marik. I bet that'll be like flying too."

"Just kill me now," Ryou muttered. He let out an undignified British-lilted squawking noise when Marik hoisted him over his shoulder. "Unhand me!"

Halfway up the stairs, Marik paused and in his most innocent voice, whined, "But Ryou, I thought you said you wanted to ride again!"

"The motorcycle! You are so evil!"  

Ryou protested all the way up to the second floor, scowling when Marik placed him back on his feet. He was unable to stay made, however, when Marik kissed him soundly.

When Marik pulled away, he glanced around suspiciously, before leaning close to Ryou's ear.

When he was certain he had the other boy's attention, he whispered, "With you, everything feels like flying."

And as they kissed again, Ryou realized he felt the same way.

He could fall at any moment; but he was pretty sure he'd already fallen.

Must have been some sort of politics of flying.

-End-

Uh, firstly, I apologize if this didn't make any sense.

Uh, secondly, I hope you enjoyed.

So, review if you like it. Review if you didn't. Just review, since it's the nice thing to do!

I really like finding things that rhyme with review. Feel free to offer me words. I'm not adverse to charity.


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